


No Pressure

by midnightfreeway



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Breakfast, Daydreaming, Hotels, M/M, Swimming Pools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 15:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9826766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightfreeway/pseuds/midnightfreeway
Summary: Three hotels, three moments.





	

Part 1 – Beijing

On their first day in Beijing, Yuuri takes a dip in the swimming pool of the hotel they’re staying at.

He’s still a little breathless from the off-ice workout at the gym, hair dripping from the shower he took before putting on his swimming trunks. Victor gave him an apologetic look before slipping out of the door, phone pressed to his ear. They’re going out to eat later tonight -- just the two of them, Victor says. Yuuri wouldn’t be surprised if other skaters joined them at some point during the evening. He’s hoping for an early night, but he has a feeling it’s not going to happen. Yuuri doesn’t really mind. They can sleep in tomorrow, anyway. 

The pool is surprisingly empty for this time of day, only a few people in the water. Yuuri lets out a breath. Grand Prix weekends are always packed with all kinds of events, competitions and practice sessions and press conferences. Moments like these are special and precious, a luxury he can’t always afford.

The water feels good on his skin, cool and smooth and fresh. Yuuri’s actually not in the mood to swim; he has never been big on swimming. He moves through the water with lazy strokes, making his way to the deep end and back. Water. It’s such a different element from what he’s used to. Ice is hard and cold and solid, but here, in the pool, he feels weightless, floating on the silky surface like a leaf on a river.

Back in the shallow end, he crosses his arms on the edge of the pool and rests his chin on them. The sound of water lapping at the sides of the pool is music to his ears; a soft, endless melody. The air is warmer here, a little humid, a stark contrast to the weather outside. It almost feels like being on vacation -- in some exotic tropical location, maybe, or in Southern Europe, Italy or Greece. Yuuri has always wanted to go to Italy, spend a few days island-hopping in the Bay of Naples. It would be an exhilarating mixture of familiarity and foreignness; the breeze warm but not oppressive, the buildings bright and delicate, the sea a different shade of blue. 

He closes his eyes, lets himself slip into the fantasy. An outdoor pool, a quaint seaside hotel, a cloudless blue sky. They’d be alone here, on vacation before the start of a new season. Victor would be tan and beautiful and radiant, effortlessly attractive in his designer swimwear and sunglasses. He’d slide into the pool next to Yuuri, an easy smile on his lips. Yuuri would move on instinct, wrapping his arms around Victor’s neck, Victor’s hands finding Yuuri’s hips under the water. Victor’s hair would be a perfectly disheveled mess, his skin smelling like sun and salt, and then he’d be closing the space between them, his breath a hot caress against Yuuri’s lips--

There’s a sudden noise behind him. A loud splash, followed by peals of laughter. Yuuri’s eyes snap open, reality setting in. He sighs and pulls away, reaching for the ladder to get out of the pool. He should really start getting ready for the evening. 

 

Part 2 – Moscow

“Yuuri,” Victor says, voice low and pleasant in Yuuri’s ear, hand resting on the small of his back. “Pick a table and take a seat.”

Yuuri stands in the doorway, looking around the breakfast room in wide-eyed terror. Ice dancers, pairs skaters, coaches, judges. There’s nobody here he really knows. The volume of chatter in the room is intimidating, the sound of cutlery clinking against plates loud and sharp. Yuuri wants to turn around and go straight back to his room.

“The buffet’s over there,” Yuuri says. There’s a long line for the buffet table, everyone in a hurry to grab something to eat before the start of the morning practice. 

Victor smiles, dazzling and bright. “Leave it to me. Sit down, Yuuri.” And before Yuuri can open his mouth, Victor’s gone, his suit fluttering as he makes his way through the room, heading towards the buffet.

Yuuri sighs and looks around, slides onto the nearest chair at the nearest empty table. He nods at the group of ice dancers at the next table before lowering his gaze and pulling out his phone. 

Across the room, Victor’s filling the plates with a little bit of everything, his movements easy and graceful as he weaves his way through brightly clad athletes and delicate middle-aged women. Yuuri stares at him, fingers hovering over the phone’s screen. Victor’s been like this ever since they arrived in Moscow: always at Yuuri’s side, attentive to all his needs. Yuuri isn’t surprised by this. It’s only been three weeks since the Cup of China; the memory is still fresh in their minds.

Yuuri puts his head down and busies himself with his phone, flushed at the thought of being watched. He looks up when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye and lets out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Victor is balancing two trays in his hands, all smiles and pleasantries as he moves past other skaters and their coaches; and somehow, he manages to make it look like the easiest thing in the world.

“Here’s your breakfast,” he says, setting one of the trays on the table in front of Yuuri. “Well, Yuuri. Did I forget something?”

Yuuri looks down, eyes widening at the sight. Oatmeal and berries, two apples, a glass of orange juice. It’s exactly what Yuuri would have picked for himself, which is weird, because he doesn’t eat the same breakfast every day. Victor has even poured some honey in his oatmeal. Yuuri has no idea how Victor could have known he likes this particular combination. He doesn’t remember ever telling Victor about it, or maybe he has, he’s not sure--

“No. Nothing.” Yuuri’s cheeks are burning hot, his eyes everywhere but on Victor. “Thank you.”

Victor takes a seat across from him, tray clacking against the table. Yuuri casts him a wary glance. Victor’s in the process of plucking a grape from the vine, a small smile playing over his lips. Yuuri bites his cheek to keep from smiling. He wants to ask, _which one are you now, my coach or my boyfriend?_ but decides against it and bites into his apple instead. 

 

Part 3 – Barcelona

The hotel room is cold and empty, the wooden floor bare and the sheets plain white cotton, but Yuuri’s heart is so warm and full he thinks he might burst. 

The door closes behind them with a faint click. Yuuri’s cheeks are tingling from the cold, his breath coming in short little puffs. He’s acutely aware of the ring on his finger, the weight of it comforting and reassuring, a safe anchor to cling to.

Victor drops the bags at the door and slides out of his jacket. Yuuri steps out of his shoes and feels around on the wall for the light switch. It’s all very domestic, like coming home after a long day of work. There will be many days like this in the future, at home in Hasetsu, and later, somewhere else, in a place they can call their own. Yuuri’s heartbeat is louder than ever, a strong steady rhythm in his chest. 

“Time for bed, Yuuri.” Victor’s voice is soft even here, even now. “Tomorrow is a big day.”

It’s getting late, but Yuuri doesn’t want to sleep, doesn’t want this night to end. He stands in front of the window while Victor showers, staring at the sea of city lights spread out below him and listening to the sound of water running in the bathroom, loud and muffled all at once. The moment feels surreal, but in a good way, like a dream that somehow came true. Twelve months ago, he was in a completely different place; at a low point in his life, haunted by his own shortcomings. Yuuri finds himself wishing he could go back in time, just to tell his younger self about this moment. Just to show him the ring on his finger. 

The bathroom door is ajar, the shower no longer running. Yuuri slips into the bathroom. Victor is standing in front of the sink, brushing his teeth. The tiled floor is warm under Yuuri’s feet, the air humid from the shower. Yuuri’s glasses fog up within seconds, obscuring his vision.

Yuuri huffs in irritation, squinting to see through his glasses. Victor leans over the sink to spit. The next thing Yuuri knows, Victor is reaching towards him, pulling the glasses from his face. 

“Victor,” Yuuri says, his tone a mixture of warning and exasperation. He knows he doesn’t sound convincing, because--

“No better, huh?” Victor says, blithe and bright. He turns the glasses around in his hands, a small smile on his lips. He touches Yuuri’s glasses with a careful reverence that takes Yuuri’s breath away, treating them like a precious treasure. And then, his smile fades, his eyes soft and wistful. “You really don’t remember?”

It takes Yuuri a moment to realize what he’s talking about. He lowers his head, eyes flickering away from Victor’s. “Mm. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.” Victor’s expression is fond as he looks down at the glasses, eyes filled with tender affection. Yuuri’s eyes catch sight of the ring on Victor’s finger. A sense of joy bubbles up inside him, stronger than any emotion he has ever felt before. “There were times when I, ah. Thought you might not remember. I didn’t think about it too much. Everything makes sense now.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri says, struck by the truth in his words. “Everything makes sense now.”

Victor turns to face him, using both hands to push the glasses back into place. He lets his touch linger on Yuuri’s face, fingertips resting on his skin, feather-light and delicate. Yuuri holds his breath, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. This must be another dream, he thinks, but his eyes are wide open, senses alive and attuned to everything around him.

“Here,” Victor says. His hands leave Yuuri’s face. Yuuri exhales. _Please don’t ever stop looking at me like that,_ he wants to say. _Like I’m worth everything in the world._

Yuuri picks up his toothbrush. Victor turns back to the sink, his smile soft and sweet. They have a lot to talk about.


End file.
